Seize the day. You bet. I am the lone shopper now in a thousand stores. I walk the aisles as a man from the old economy, holder of a house no one wants, a car that sucks gas, carrier of no spendable credit. The last hurrah of a party that ended but no one told us. I cruise the lanes of Home Depot and Target and Menards besieged by a thousand people with red vests and radios and badges. Do you want this? Can I get you that? No, I'm just looking. I am the lone shopper among the tons and tons of goods from a twenty year binge that ended overnight. Middle class families run by while daddy looks over his shoulder for the job he lost. They aren't buying. Hell, I'm not even buying. A man with Carpe Diem on his shoulder, making his way through the detritus of greed and billions of dollars in bonuses given to the few. One percent makes ninety nine percent of the money while the rest split the one percent. Something like that. Pillage and burn. Move on. No buyers here in the stores. What to do with all these malls and houses and cars and things we no longer need? What did the Russians feel like when it all fell apart? Hope the man in the White House is at the top of his form because we need it. Still, I need to buy something, do my part for our moribund economy. If only everyone would quit looting. Where did that first three hundred and fifty billion go? Search me? Somebody got it. Junkets and Las Vegas and Jets. Right on baby. Carpe Diem. Seize the Day. They seized the day and everything else. Brother can you spare a dime? No! I'm with you there. How about a little credit? Lost your mind. Move on no buyers here. Here they are...May I help you sir. Nope, I found it. Got my plunger, head for the register and head for the car and drive home with no gas in the tank. Carpe Diem Baby.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Carpe Diem Baby.
Seize the day. You bet. I am the lone shopper now in a thousand stores. I walk the aisles as a man from the old economy, holder of a house no one wants, a car that sucks gas, carrier of no spendable credit. The last hurrah of a party that ended but no one told us. I cruise the lanes of Home Depot and Target and Menards besieged by a thousand people with red vests and radios and badges. Do you want this? Can I get you that? No, I'm just looking. I am the lone shopper among the tons and tons of goods from a twenty year binge that ended overnight. Middle class families run by while daddy looks over his shoulder for the job he lost. They aren't buying. Hell, I'm not even buying. A man with Carpe Diem on his shoulder, making his way through the detritus of greed and billions of dollars in bonuses given to the few. One percent makes ninety nine percent of the money while the rest split the one percent. Something like that. Pillage and burn. Move on. No buyers here in the stores. What to do with all these malls and houses and cars and things we no longer need? What did the Russians feel like when it all fell apart? Hope the man in the White House is at the top of his form because we need it. Still, I need to buy something, do my part for our moribund economy. If only everyone would quit looting. Where did that first three hundred and fifty billion go? Search me? Somebody got it. Junkets and Las Vegas and Jets. Right on baby. Carpe Diem. Seize the Day. They seized the day and everything else. Brother can you spare a dime? No! I'm with you there. How about a little credit? Lost your mind. Move on no buyers here. Here they are...May I help you sir. Nope, I found it. Got my plunger, head for the register and head for the car and drive home with no gas in the tank. Carpe Diem Baby.
